


phantom ache caged within his ribs

by guitarsongsYAY



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book 2: Wayward Son, Break Up, Communication Failure, Dubious Consent, Hurt No Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Actual Cheating Though, POV Penelope Bunce, POV Shepard, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, honey pot, like really, technically, to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guitarsongsYAY/pseuds/guitarsongsYAY
Summary: “They’re fighting because you were shortsighted and foolish enough to recommend that that Baz — Simon’s boyfriend — let the Vampire King snog him, as some reckless honey pot mission, just so you could get a thrill! Did you want something enticing to report back to the Normals?! Is ruining their relationship enough of an adventure for you?!” I know that Simon and Baz already had a rift between them, but this trip was supposed to fix that, dammit, get Simon off the couch and Basil to realize that Simon still wants him, not to leave them shouting at each other like they did at Watford when they were supposed to kill each other in the War! Not end up with Simon sounding ready to explode or run his sword through his boyfriend, and Baz sounding just as close to tears as he is to tearing Simon’s throat out."Simon has been trying to push Baz away for what feels like forever. Baz has been clinging tightly for just as long. When his final attempt to convince him to leave goes too far, a phone call comes too late, and Simon finally pushes too hard, they end up scattered in every way.ORSimon tends to run headfirst into half-cocked plans, and picks the worst time to decide to see it through to the end.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 17
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CANON DIVERGENCE AS FOLLOWS
> 
> (first paragraph is certainly enough to understand, next few are for the detail oriented few - honestly you can skip the note summary if you want and it should still be clear enough)
> 
> When making the plan to infiltrate Lamb's vampire party, Shepard jokes that Baz can be the honeypot for the mission. Simon, as we know, has been thinking about breaking up with Baz (for his own good~) and is struggling with the execution. Simon comes up with the brilliant plan that if he can get Baz to sleep with Lamb, he won't be heartbroken when they break up, plus will have a partner who understands him and can teach him vampire tricks, with the upside of Baz getting to be the Vampire Prince of Las Vegas, or whatever title he would get as royal vampire consort. Simon pushes the plan into action. Penny and Shepard do not agree with it but are mostly too exhausted to give a solid argument against it. Baz is very much so not a supporter of said plan. Simon bulldozes on.  
> Opens with a diverged scene of the beach 'break-up' only with much more aggression and fighting. Simon has already gone so far, think "I am in blood that should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as going o'er" from Macbeth vibes, and goes for broke in trying to chase Baz off. Ends up going for broken instead. Penny and Shepard overhear.  
> And the worst, in this version, the phone call about Watford comes too late to stop Simon.
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> Salut, tout le monde.
> 
> This is actually (if I'm being mostly technical) my first ever fanfic. I'm not gonna say be gentle because where's the fun in it if it isn't rough and kinda chokes you up a bit. Last fanfic I wrote I don't actually recall, but I think it was Sterek (which I never even liked, I wrote it with my sister) and I was hm. Maybe 12? 11? So almost a decade ago. Don't actually know the time frame, but I have no experience whatsoever so take what you get, mes mecs.  
> This idea (honestly mostly the fight) has been killing me when I try to sleep for roughly 3+ weeks, and I just sat down and wrote this real quick in one sitting. No Beta. Not Britpicked. Being Canadian at least my vowels should be right.  
> I did edit it, but it's 02:00 so, like life, there are no guarantees.
> 
> Hope you enjoy enough that you don't throw the book at me.

#####  _**Penny** _

This is all the bloody normal’s fault. 

Through the cover of the trees I can faintly hear Simon, brash and fiery and determined, shouting various accusations and thinly veiled insults at Baz. Occasionally Baz will grit out a response in defence, and his voice has gone worryingly cold, clipped consonants carrying his words across the distance. I can feel my face screw up further with every tight rebuttal. 

_“You’re the one that told me to do it in the first place! I had no interest in your plan, but precious_ Wellbelove _was more important than my comfort and consent!”  
“You certainly seemed comfortable when I found you two! And I can’t believe you really are so selfish, so, so — so_ Evil _that you were willing to let Agatha die just ‘cause you can’t be bothered to do something for the greater good!”  
“Newsflash, Snow, I didn’t do anything with Lamb! But if I had, you certainly encouraged — no, coerced me into his company! If you weren’t so—”  
“Oh, so it’s Lamb now? He doesn’t get his last name like everyone else? I can see you think he’s just so fucking special—”  
“I don’t know his bloody last name! Maybe Lamb is his last name, maybe it’s a nickname, maybe it’s an alias, Morgana, Snow, the wanker’s name is is redundant, why are you accusing me of—” _

Shepard bumps my shoulder awkwardly with a painful looking smile on his face. More of a grimace, really.

“So, is this, uh. Normal? For them? Regularly scheduled programming and all that jazz?”  
I shoot him my best scowl — worthy of a Pitch, if I were to be so bold — and take a small step away to get out of shoulder-range.

“Are you really that daft?!” I hiss at him. “You think that _this_ ,” I sweep an arm in the direction of the verbal death-match happening on the shore, “is a _regular program?_ Even for them?!”

He looks vaguely sheepish before giving a casual shrug. “I mean, they seem kinda high strung, y’know? It seems in character for them to fight like cats and dogs.”

I stare him down before saying, “Crowley, _Normal_ , they don’t fight like —” Okay, with flashes of almost a decade of fights in mind, I can’t actually dispute that point. But it’s the sentiment of the thing. “They don’t… Not like _this!_ Petty spats? Sure. Disagreements? For the love of Magic, _constantly_ , but — this is _real._ ”

“Do you think it’s gonna be okay, though? Sounds like they’ve been through a lot together — all of y’all, really— so they’ll get over it, after they get it out of their systems.” He gives me a sunshine-y smile that covers most of his doubt, squinting his eyes at me with a toothy grin, before self-deprecatingly shrugging, _again,_ and moving to bump my shoulder. For the second time. I feel the tumult of anxiety in my stomach jolt before turning to steel, my spine straightening without thought, and then I just _snap_.

“This is all your fault!” I’m positively seething at this point, growling the words as I step closer into his space with my chin jutted out, doing my best to glare down at him despite his unfair height advantage. I can feel my fingers twitching out of habit, muscle memory ready to spell him into oblivion. I honestly feel like I could go off at this point, I’m so furious. I can feel my magic splashing up inside me like acid, and by the wide-eyed look on his face, I’m assuming Shepard-from-Omaha can feel it too. _Good,_ I think viciously. _Cursed or not, he should be scared._

“They’re fighting because you were shortsighted and foolish enough to recommend that that Baz — _Simon’s boyfriend_ — let the Vampire King snog him, as some reckless _honey pot mission_ , just so you could get a thrill! Did you want something enticing to report back to the Normals?! Is ruining their relationship enough of an adventure for you?!” I know that Simon and Baz already had a rift between them, but this trip was supposed to _fix that_ , dammit, get Simon off the couch and Basil to realize that Simon still wants him, not to leave them shouting at each other like they did at Watford when they were supposed to kill each other in the War! Not end up with Simon sounding ready to explode or run his sword through his boyfriend, and Baz sounding just as close to tears as he is to tearing Simon’s throat out.

“I didn’t know for sure they even were dating! And, yeah, maybe I suggested it, but Simon was the one to push for it! That’s not my fault—“

 _“Well I apologize for_ allowing _Lamb to grope me, but it was never something I wanted, and you should know that, Snow, considering how many times I told you I wasn’t comfortable! It’s not on me that my_ boyfriend _decided it was his right to pimp me out to Dark Creatures! And, as you told me,_ ‘Aggie’ _was more important than my ‘hang-ups’ or autonomy! You know I didn’t want that, Simon—”_

Shepard falters once Baz’s exclamation interrupts him, shoulders hunching uneasily. His mouth opens and closes, tongue tapping his front teeth as he searches for something to say.  


I know, realistically, technically, _logically_ , that Shepard isn't really to blame here. I know that I could blame Lamb for daring to put his vampire hands on Basil in the first place. I know I could blame myself for having been mostly amused at the alarmed face Baz made when Shepard suggested the seduction plan. For having been too tired to analyze how very distressed Baz must have been to lose his composure enough that his emotions and stress became more and more clear the longer his protests were either razed over or ignored. I could have given a better response than a snort when he turned to me, thundercloud-grey eyes wide with panic and searching for an ally. 

Instead, I just laughed to myself at how the ruthless and powerful Basilton Pitch managed to look like a sweet and anxious puppy. Instead, my mind brought me back to the Christmas at Pitch manor. I recalled, with the kind of exhausted hysteria that comes from too much energy spent much too quickly, the four of us talking about using Agatha to seduce people, the sentence, _“No one’s seducing a vampire,”_ and found myself holding back giggles while wondering how we found ourselves in in a scenario where we are not only seducing a vampire, but using _Basilton_ to do it. It was positively hilarious, and absurd enough that I never even thought deeper about why Basil looked so uncomfortable, or why he might need someone to take his side when he is usually more than capable of defending himself. I didn’t care to remember that Baz is capable of depending himself against anyone, but would let Simon have whatever he asks, and that that point is doubly applicable when we’re only on this trip to get Simon back to himself again.

I know that if I am to be logical here, be realistic, that the onus would fall on Simon and Simon alone. I know that even though Shepard was the one to suggest the idea, Simon was the one who jumped on it and held fast with both hands and his tail, that Simon was the one who pushed and shoved and guilted Baz into mostly agreeing, so long as Simon Snow is sure it’s the only option, that Simon was the one to coerce him into following through every time Basil tried to back out. That he was the one who made it crystal clear that this was the plan, and that backing out would be selfish and inhumane, that everyone had to make sacrifices and _This is Agatha’s life on the line!_ and that this was the best way to save her.  


It certainly wasn’t me or Shepard that said in almost as many words that the life of Agatha Wellbelove is worth infinitely more than the life of Basilton Pitch, and _you should be happy for the chance to talk to other vampires, why are you being so stubborn?!_ if any objections were made by Basil.  


It’s not Shepard’s fault that he assumed Simon and Agatha were together, since he was willing _and_ determined to have Basil sleep with Lamb if it would help them save Agatha. It wasn’t Shepard who decided a compromise was that Basil didn't have to flirt with Lamb (unless it was helpful) but was obligated to reciprocate any advances that the wanker made. I absolutely didn’t reply to Shepard’s statement of “you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing,” with “you can’t let a bit of nerves stop us from saving Ags,” as Baz stared at the carpet with tight fists and a clenched jaw.

The logical conclusion is that the communication breakdown (spectacular spell for forcing apologies between two unwilling children after a fight) between Baz and Simon can only be blamed on Simon himself, and despite the cruel words he keeps slinging at Basil, neither myself nor Shepard nor Baz, or even Lamb, a prick though he is, are at fault for what’s happening now. In truth, I’m quite sure that nothing really happened between Baz and Lamb, if we don’t include a very possessive kiss and quite a lot of explicit and casual groping, all on behalf of Lamb. There’s nothing that happened to warrant such an explosion, and given that nothing happened by choice, there isn’t any reason why the fight is even happening. Technically, Shepard has done nothing to deserve my wrath. 

Unfortunately for him, Simon isn’t here right now, given that he’s currently occupied on attempting to shift the fault to another innocent party, and I’m practically incandescent with rage, Shepard will have to do. I’m far past the point of logic. In the course of a week I’ve lost my longterm boyfriend, had my friend kidnapped, and now am watching the rest of my social group duel each other with words. The Normal is nowhere near as cathartic to argue with as Basilton, yet I am determined to make do.

#####  _**Shepard** _

I can see Penelope slowly work herself up further and further with her thoughts until I’m a bit terrified she’s going to literally boil over and scald me with magic or something. I’ll admit that the vibes here are pretty uncomfortable. The pretty boy might be the vampire but I wouldn’t be shocked if she spelled herself up some fangs and tore my throat out. Which, really isn't fair! Speakers tend to be pretty high strung but I think I somehow ended up with trio that has the worst anger issues in all of Britannia. In the distance I can hear a Maybe tear a strip off a vampire for flirting with the Vampire King (still pretty damn neat) like he told him to, and now Penelope is ready to spell my brains out of my ears for making a joke.

Seriously, I had no idea Simon and Baz were a thing considering Simon seemed to flinch away anytime they got within caressing distance, and he seemed to be wildly committed and involved in Agatha Wellbelove, the Californian who got abducted (or something?) by NextBlood. Seriously, this guy has a hero complex a mile long and put all that manic obligation into saving the pretty blonde girl. I don’t mean to stereotype because, yeah, I might be interested in guys, too, but when you’ve got pretty blonde damsel waving her handkerchief at courageous blond hero, you tend to make some conclusions. I’m proud to say I clocked Basil damn quick, because, another stereotype, but what straight dude has hair that luscious? I figured pretty boy and Penelope had a beard kinda arrangement going on, and were just really snarky people even when pretending to be in love. Hadn’t expected a Twilight level love triangle going on between Pitch, Snow, and Wellbelove (and seriously, do all Speakers in England have sick last names? Because those are great. I think pretty boy had another last name too, but he has so many names a Wheel of Fortune contestant would break down crying, so one last name should be enough).

I’m also wondering about what kind of boyfriend who basically pimp out their man (Baz made a good point, even though he made me lose my trail of thought) to save a girl then get peeved that the John followed through. So to speak. That metaphor went a bit long. Like, I’m sure I’d be upset if my partner cheated on me, but if my partner did it to save the world? Or a friend? Or, what’s a bit too similar to the current situation for comfort, was assaulted? I can’t imagine getting angry with that. Or yelling at them. For example, the vague shouting I can hear from the beach. The two have switched their tones around and now Baz is starting to sound like the forest fire, all-consuming and passionate (a bit ironic with him being flammable — combustible? — but I saw his magic) while Simon has merged from crazy angry and audible hurt to cold statements that get crueler and crueler with every jab that’s volleyed over. I know I wince when I hear something about Baz just wanting to get with someone who knows what it’s like to be a monster. I think that might be a slur, actually. Either way, y’know, victim blaming, to the max. 

I watch Penny open her mouth to yell despite the fact that she is visibly uncomfortable. “If you had never sugge—”

“Assault!” I yell, not thinking before the word comes out. That didn't sound like a fully formed thought at all. She gapes at me for a moment with furrowed brows.

“Morgan and Methuselah, yelling at you doesn't count as assault, you numpty!”

“No, I, uh—” Christ, that did sound like I was accusing her of assault, didn't it? I meet a pretty girl who is both a Speaker and a spitfire, and I accidentally accuse her of assault. “I meant, like — what happened with the Vampire King and pretty boy- uh, Baz,” I can tell that my nickname has not gone over well, and I should stop saying the Vampire King, but it’s so _cool_. Penelope doesn't look to agree. I’ve never seen someone look so thoroughly unimpressed with such little effort. “That was assault, wasn't it? Baz didn’t want Lamb to touch him, he only did it because Simon made him. That’s assault.”

She gives me a blank look for a second before she lets herself put the pieces together, then she blanches a little bit. Penelope looks disturbed, but also not really shocked, so I’m certain she just hasn't allowed herself to touch that conclusion. She looks a bit less angry, but a thousand times more heartbroken, which is honestly worse. I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

“Basil isn’t going to… He won’t want to…” She searches for words for a moment, and I’m surprised to see it — she never seems to struggle with her words, just has an endless lexicon of adjectives and verbs at the tip of her tongue. “Simon has been having a hard time lately. We wanted this trip to help him feel more… Himself. He’s my best friend. But… Baz is my friend too, and I just wish Simon wouldn’t…” She gestures vaguely towards the shore.

“Simon’s coming at him for doing what he made him do. Baz didn’t want to do any of this. It’s shitty no matter what, but this is victim blaming, you know? He doesn’t deserve this. I believe you that Simon is having a hard time, but the dude shouldn’t be treating his boyfriend like this.”

“I’m not trying to defend Simon!” She says, defensively. “This is wrong, and no matter how jealous Simon is, Baz is wicked loyal, and only played along at all to save Agatha. It’s almost like Simon is trying to… We should…”

“We should do something.” I decide. “It’s getting quieter, maybe they’ve made up?”

She frowns. “I hope so. I think I hear crying, too, though. Should we give them a little time—”  
She’s cut off by a sob louder than anything we’ve heard so far. We both snap our heads towards the water and stand, tense, with wide eyes.

_“Simon, please — ! I don’t, I’ll — just, please, love, tell me what I should do, I’ll change whatever it is, I promise, love, I just want to be with you. I’ll only ever be happy with you! Simon Snow, I choose you—”_

_“I can’t believe I ever thought I could love a monster like you. And worse, not even a proper one! Crowley, you can’t even be a vampire right. Maybe that’s what you should change.”_ There’s a wretched sob echoing now, and a cruel yet hollow laugh follows just as quickly on it’s tail. I actually feel sick to my stomach hearing this, but it’s like my shoes have been encased in cement. I’m so shocked I can’t move.

#####  _**Penny** _

_Simon no Simon no please don’t say that you love each other you’re going to tear him to pieces if you don’t stop, he won’t survive this one, Si._

_“You don’t — you don’t mean that, darling, Simon, I love you, please don’t say that to me — ”_

I think I might throw up. I feel like I did during the Watford Disaster, that Christmas, when I was weak and ready to pass out or vomit or just curl up and die and Baz had helped me up when I was falling and carried me along and used _Love’s Light Wings_ to get us to Simon and I need to do the same. Help Baz carry on and get through to Simon and fix this, I need to fix this. I’m panicking and maybe someone cast _Stand Your Ground!_ on me because I can’t seem to run like I keep telling myself to. I can feel a whisper of fear curling around my spine and I’ve never really been scared of Simon before, not really, he’s my best friend, but he seems sharp and terrifying right now. I don’t know what to do with this. It sounds like all of Baz’s worst fears and self hating thoughts are being painted into the air, and I feel my heart skip a beat when I realize that’s _exactly_ what’s happening. Because the only person Baz would confess those to is Simon, and Simon has been pushing away for months now but Basil is too damn _loyal_ and would never leave Simon, not unless Simon wanted him to go. And all his attempts to make Baz leave have been unsuccessful. And now he’s going to throw his fears back at him and shred his heart to make him leave, and it’s not worth it, not really, and I have to stop him from finishing this, but my feet are still stuck to the ground.

_“I don’t want to see you ever again, Tyrannus. I don’t want you near me, or the family I’ve made, and I don't want you in my home. Just stop pretending to be something you're not! Maybe if you’d — if you’d just been the predator you_ are _instead of pretending to be a house pet I would've loved you!”_

_“Simon, I told you, I don't want to stay here. I don’t. I want to go home, and be with you. You’re my home, Simon. You're everything to me. I’ll change whatever you want me to change—”_

_“You’re a monster and a liar — a fake! And somehow, being a fake is worse! A wolf in sheep’s clothing! You don’t belong in the World of Mages. I just— I just want for you to fucking stay here and figure out what you are. I — I even let you sleep with Lamb! Now, we’re done. I don’t want this anymore, Basi— Tyrannus. I don't want_ you _anymore. Go to Lamb._

_“Simon, I love you—”_

_“If you don’t leave right now I swear to Magic I will set you on_ fire _, Pitch! You— you bloodsucker! Stay away from us! Go back to Lamb’s city, with him! I don't want a_ monster. _Just_ go!”

There’s a ringing sob I can hear, and as the faintest sounds of rapidly retreating footsteps echoes, the spell that held me still seems to break, and I nudge Shepard in panic and sprint towards where Simon and Baz had stood. I’m hoping against hope that I will find both of them there. The normal and I slip in the sand as we hurtle towards the lone figure on the beach. Crowley. Only one. Heavy red wings drag through the banks with exhaustion. A small piece of wood is held in Simon’s hands. When mere steps separate the three of us, he turns around and looks at me with crystalline eyes that silently drip tears. He’s trembling.

“Oh, fuck… Is he? The fire, did you…?” Shepard sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him, in every way, and he’s staring with alarmed eyes towards the stick in Simon’s hand. Simon opens his hand, or maybe it fell with all the shaking, but I feel my heart stop in my chest when I realize it’s a burnt-out match. I start hyperventilating, frantically casting my eyes around the shore for ashes, a body, a wand, something, because Basil is my _friend_ and he cast a family spell to heal me and we’re family, and I can distantly feel that I’m sobbing with wrecked abandon. Everything is happening through a thick sheet of glass, it feels so far away. I just feel numb. Shepard has gripped Simon’s shoulders tightly, and he keeps saying “Is he dead?!” in the face of Simon’s blank faced devastation. I can’t even think of any spells to help, not to find Baz, not to bring him ba— not to help Simon, and I’m absolutely _useless_ in the worst way. Shepard heaves a sigh of relief out of nowhere, and I see that Simon is shaking his head in response to Shepard’s question, and I collapse onto the sand. I don’t know where he is. Any of them. Basil is in the wind and Simon has retreated somewhere behind his eyes and Shepard looks one more tragedy away from giving up on this adventure. 

Simon slowly turns to face me and I shiver beneath his gaze. I’ve seen him so devastated he looked heart-rendingly young, and he’s just as bad right now, but somehow he also looks older than I’ve ever seen. He looks like the pain of your first broken bone, like millennia of loss, like decades of hardship, and he looks ready to break down completely.

“Penny.” His voice is quiet and raspy, broken glass and sand storms. It’s shattered and dry. “Penny, I fucked up. I fucked up, he’s gone, Pen, I fucked it all up, I — he’s gone, I’ve ruined it.” And with that he implodes into himself, sobbing and shuddering, curled towards me with one hand outstretched, but not touching. I can make out a scrap of blue fabric that looks faintly familiar clenched in his fist. He’s crying so loudly it’s like his soul was cut out of his body, clawing at his own chest with his tail wrapped around his wrist like he’s imagining someone holding him. The air is thick with regret. I know he can’t convince himself he did the right thing anymore, not after this. I think he’s realizing he took the love of his life’s heart and smashed it into the ground, and now he can feel that phantom ache caged within his ribs. I’m staring at him and I can’t even begin to guess how to fix this.

And then my phone rings out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simon pov, I hope you enjoy. it is 06h and posting now. I stayed up till now to get out for y'all  
> I'll write more in my notes when I'm not so jittery.

#####  **_Simon_ **

No matter how awful I am to Baz, he doesn’t seem to get it. It. Me. The fact that I’m holding him back, holding him down, that he’s fighting below his weight class by staying with me. There are so many things I love about him: that he’s considerate, that he’s brilliant, that he’s persistent — but those traits are making things fucking _exhausting_ for me right now. He’s so considerate that he’ll stay with me after I’m only a shell of the boy he wanted. The Chosen One’s nuclear shadow. The fact that he uses his cleverness to try to find a solution instead of knowing when he’s beat. That he’s so bloody _stubborn_ that he turns his nose up against any hint of the truth, simply won’t _entertain_ the thought of getting out of a building before it crumbles. And we are. Crumbling, I mean. Our whole relationship has been dissolving into the wind for _months_ and still he won’t just let me go.

You know that stupid joke about the old _Ball and Chain_? I hate it when people talk about their wife or whatever that way, but it’s just a fact that I’m just Baz’s ball and chain now. Or worse. He’s so capable, he could have anyone or anything, bloody perfect as he is, and yet he’s cuffed himself to a failure of a magician. Not even a magician, now, ain’t I? Fucking _Lamb_ gave me such a scathing look and called me a Disfigured Magician to Baz, and even though my blood is boiling just remembering it, he was absolutely _right_. I’m a burden. I’m that messed up Russian — Ukraine? Soviet somewhere — town with the radiation-defects after whatever happened there happened. Unnatural, unnerving, absolutely useless. 

Crowley, I’ve tried so goddamn _hard_ to push Baz away, give him a chance to shine without me blocking out everything he does like some shade monster. He keeps saying, _Simon, I’m here with you, no matter how different things are, how difficult, none of it matters to me_. Bollocks, it doesn't matter! Merlin, he’s getting so pale — well, even _more_ pale — and looks exhausted all the time. It’s like his smile is just painted on now. And then we brought up talking to the vampires in Las Vegas, finding out how to save Agatha, and I could see a scrap of him light up at the idea of meeting more people like him, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He can’t be _himself_ back home, not really. Vampires are _illegal_ , just him existing, especially with magic, is enough to get him banished. Attacked. _Killed_. Morgana, _I_ was one of those mages who wanted to kill him just for existing. And now we’re in America and there are vampires who aren’t hiding, who aren’t scared, who are powerful and strong and not tamed like back in England. The vampires in the Covent Garden are a whole different class to the vampires here. I don’t want Baz to end up one of those toothless vampires cowering from people like me and Pen. I want him to be free. _If you love something, set it free_. I love Baz so much, even if I’ll never tell him. It would be harder for him if I told him, leaving, that is. He’d be even more obliged to stay with me.

When Shepard joked about Baz being the honey to catch the vampire flies, or whatever it was he said, it felt like my life finally came into focus. I had a plan — I’m the one plotting now, I guess — and it wouldn’t even end up hurting Baz when it’s all said and done. It seemed so simple suddenly, because of course Baz wouldn’t leave me, or be unfaithful, but maybe if he could try things with someone _better_ — which Lamb is, the wanker, in every single way — then he would realize just how much he was missing. Leave to greener pastures, or, redder pastures, for him? Maybe. He can finally be with someone who’s equally rich and pretty and powerful and smart and knows more about vampires than just how to kill them. It makes me nauseated to think about the fact that the only cultural knowledge I have about Baz is how to murder him and his — kin? It’s just not right. It’s not healthy. None of this is healthy, but having a plan for your partner’s homicide sounds like something from one of those shitty late night programs on the telly.

I should have realized that Baz wouldn’t just give up and leave, even if it’s the best thing for him. I should have remembered how hung up Baz is on keeping his word, _An Englishman’s Word is His Bond_ , shoulda figured that he wouldn’t admit to wanting to hook up with the sexy vampire king. I felt right shite when I had to keep pushing him to do it, watching him shift in his seat and cross and uncross his legs uncomfortably, face freezing up then shattering again and again. I can’t even remember exactly what I said to him in the end, I just kept — pressuring him — trying to convince him to do it, reminding him that we’re doing this to save Agatha, in case he felt like he was doing something wrong. I kept trying to give him permission to follow his heart for once, my eyes saying _It’s okay, I’m setting you free, you don’t have to feel bad about this._ That may or may not have been successful. It was just a blur of Baz slowly losing his resolve as I shouted, finally conceding, then trying to back out again and again. Honestly, I was just relieved that I got him to say yes. Like always, I didn’t think about it. That’s gonna be my fatal flaw someday.

Then it came time for Baz to actually be the honey, and I heard him acting cool and collected and suave while Lamb slowly got more and more interested in my boyfriend. Acting like some vampire guru or something, waxing poetic about the Discrimination and Cruelty that England is apparently rife with. Which, _I know_ , but it doesn’t sound right when you’re only saying it to get into some guy’s pants. Baz was all posh and slick, Crowley, he was practically _purring_ , while Lamb got more and more pushy. I might’ve set it all up, but hearing that ‘conversation’ made me feel like I was going to go off. There was a lot of good intel coming through, though. There was also a lot of innuendos, and Lamb kept trying to make Baz drink _Human Blood_ and plying him with fancy champagne, and I couldn’t even see through the rage that fogged my eyes up. It was creepy. And _gross_. And the worst part is, I could tell that Baz _liked_ it. 

He was enjoying letting the vampire practically hunt him, stalking him across the room. What kind of person stalks someone before getting together?! I mean — I never _really_ did that. Baz and Penny would call it stalking, but I was just _determined_ , not some villain trying to sleep with a man who’s probably, like, a hundred years younger than me. Penny kept throwing me these looks that seemed both judgemental and really uncomfortable, and I think Shepard was just trying to pretend he wasn’t in the room. I heard Baz take a sharp breath in with a hitch and fabric rustling under something. His jacket. His shirt. Maybe his bloody _trousers_. Merlin, I’m going to break something. _You like that don’t you, pet? I can tell you’re looking for someone who knows what to do with a kit like you._ More shallow breathing. Baz clearing his throat. His voice raspy and too airy, _I hardly think this is the right place to play, now is it Lamb? A game like this deserves some privacy_. Lamb laughing low and dark and asking to take it somewhere else. Baz murmuring that he might be more persuaded to give into carnal desires if Lamb told him a couple things first. Lamb replying, _anything, how about I show your our city, and we can get to know each other a little better_. 

The elevator doors opening and closing, Lamb monologuing about how amazing Las Vegas is for “our kind,” laughing and talking about how in his city, our brethren don’t have to hide. Doors opening again. Casual footsteps echoing across — pavement?! Did he just leave the hotel? Shepard says something about secondary locations, but I’m focusing so much on trying to catch whatever is happening I don’t even pay attention to Pen and Shepard berating Baz, and maybe reassuring me. About something. I don’t know if it’s about my boyfriend’s safety, or fidelity. Either way, it doesn't penetrate through my haze of anxiety.

Baz starts to sound absolutely sloshed, his words slurring around his ringing laughter, muttering about a milkshake while Lamb laughs with him and teases him about alcohol. He’s still telling vampire fairytales or something, probably about how vampires are superior to _Bleeders_ and other bollocks. I can hear the name Pitch come through the phone, and I might be more scared than angry now because this was really a terrible idea, fuck. Nothing suspect seems to happen though. If you don’t count Lamb groping my boyfriend, still stroking and _petting_ and some of those sounds seem awfully close to the microphone which I don’t even want to _think_ about, Crowley. Never mind, this is officially very suspect, and _infuriating_. Lamb is now complimenting Baz’s hair, _so soft, kit_ , and his pretty eyes, and whispering that he’s looking awfully pale, and _should we go get a snack, Chaz?_ before I can hear them walking again and the bell above the door announces their departure. This is now at least a tertiary location, what the fuck, why did they even need to leave just ‘cause Baz is looking peaky, what could the two need to eat so badly that it makes them leave the — oh, fuck. Vampires. Lamb is gonna try to make Baz drink human blood. Fucking, _again_. I couldn’t be any tenser.

Which of course means its the perfect time for the audio to cut out, and _Jesus Christ, Baz, did you just fucking hang up?! I’m gonna set him on fire for pulling this, I swear to magic_. I’m already out of the chair and yelling at Penny to spell my wings because he might have hung up like a wanker, but he also might be _dead_ and there’s no way I’m letting my boyfriend get murdered because of my stupid fucking plan. I don’t know if someone told me where they are and I internalized it, or if all those years of Baz-stalking and monster-hunting are just paying off, because it feels like between two blinks I manage to have the two in my sights. It feels like my magic used to, like I just thought about it and teleported my way to Baz.

They’re in an alley in the strip, some guy — some Bleeder, he’d said — pressed into the brick by Lamb, and the guy is _moaning_ and Lamb’s face is buried in his neck, and then he just — pulls back? Which, okay, is not something I was familiar with. Beckons a very tense Baz over, starting to look suspicious when he keeps shaking his head and backs away. Lamb sends the guy off, stumbling with visible fang marks. Does this just happen here? And no one notices? Sounds fake, but okay. Now he’s questioning Baz, getting more aggressive and gesturing in stiff motions. They’re talking lowly. I can’t make out any fucking words. Suddenly Lamb is shaking his head, too, and I hear _Not you, too, Chaz_ , before moving to walk away. Baz rushes him, his eyes wild and desperate, pleading for something, leading to more contempt. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lamb spits on him. He fists his hands into Lamb’s equally posh shirt, trying to get him to stay. He looks like he’s struggling to find words, probably still drunk from whatever liquor they had on the phone and while I was trying to find them. 

Baz’s voice raises and steadies a bit before saying, _Tell me about the NextBlood_. A moment of loaded silence splits the night before the two fly back towards the same brick wall someone was just bleeding against. Lamb is shoving, feet devouring the ground with short strides and Baz is stumbling backwards. His back collides with the concrete with Lamb pinning him. Baz’s breath catches in his chest from the impact. Lamb has his whole front pressed against Baz, including his fucking hip, and a _god forsaken thigh_ caught between his legs. Lamb sounds menacing and cold, demanding what ‘Chaz’ wants with NextBlood, and Are you one of them, then?! Baz is vehemently denying it, sounding lost, saying that he just needs help, that he doesn’t know where else to go, and _I’m begging you, Lamb, please, this is serious, I’ll do anything_. I can barely keep myself from growling after hearing that, even though I was the one who pushed for this whole stupid plan. I’m seeing red thinking about how Lamb is obviously picking up what Baz is putting down. What I made him put down.

Lamb doesn’t look like he’s going to rip his throat out anymore, instead he looks like he wants to _eat_ him. He’s circling his fingertips around his chest, getting way too close to some areas that leaves Baz making some strangled mewling sound. This. Is. Hell. Morgana and bleeding Methuselah, Lamb is _stroking_ Baz’s hip. The wanker is _petting my boyfriend and I can barely fucking stand it, and he needs to get his fucking thigh away from him right now, or I swear to Merlin_. Baz gives a sharp inhale and throws his head back, his elegant throat alarming close to Lamb’s fangs. This whole plot is no longer making things easier for me. This is so, _so_ much _worse_. I’m seriously considering staking Lamb and watching him choke on his own blood.

Between the sounds they’re making, I’m straining to hear Lamb whisper _If I help you, what’s on the table?_ before he starts mouthing against his throat. The noises are practically surrounding me this point, caging me in. I feel sick. _I can think of something I’d like on the table_ he adds another with wet sound, before suddenly kissing him harsh and open. He has his hand tangled in his hair and is tugging him down and pulling hard. I’m trying to convince myself that the moan Baz just made was solely because of the blood on Lamb’s lips. I feel like I’ve been watching them kiss for an eternity. Why haven't they come up for air? Do vampires not need to breathe? Is that yet another reason for Baz to leave me for Lamb, since they could snog forever without needing to stop for air, and is that what’s happening now? 

Lamb pulls back, holding Baz’s bottom lip between his teeth and dragging him along with him before biting savagely then releasing him. Baz looks starry eyed and confused, running his tongue across his bleeding lip before gently touching it with two fingers. Lamb leans into his space again and whispers something into his ear before pulling back with a sharklike grin. A predator. He brushes off Baz’s collar with steady hands before turning and stalking off without a second glance. Baz watches after him with an almost dreamy expression, pressing his fingers into his lips before sliding down the wall. He looks like he’s starving. Pupils huge in wide silver eyes. Eyes that used to look at me the way they’re trailing after Lamb. Eyes vacant enough that he doesn’t seem to register me in front of him until I’m practically on top of him. He finally focuses on me, hair tugged out of it’s careful styling and dragging across his shoulder as he tilts his head at me.

My tongue is thick and dumb in my mouth, especially after watching his own poke at the split corner of his lips. I have no idea what’s showing on my face, but it’s certainly pretty ghastly. If I can’t handle watching this, there’s no way I’ll be able to handle when I finally get Baz to leave me. I can only hope it will get easier in time. I doubt it, though. He’s setting me on fire just by looking at me. His own face looks alarmed and reverential in equal parts, and he keeps tasting the blood on his lips. He looks like he did when the Humdrum made him hollow, wild and focused and bordering on feral. I feel my lungs seize up when I realize his gaze is _ravenous_ , just like it was that night. My heart stops when I catch onto the fact that he has human blood on his lips. His tongue. His mouth. Lamb made him drink, one way or another, and it was _my_ fucking _plot_ that did the one thing he’s spent his whole like preventing. This is his greatest fear. I forced him into this bloody nightmare. If anything, it just proves how desperately he needs to get away from me. I’ve broken myself and I’m going to ruin him too if he sticks around. 

I make an involuntary half-formed sound of loss, and he turns those gleaming eyes to my mouth, then throat, and finally back to my eyes. They drift for towards my pulse before snapping into place, again and again before he shakily wets his lips once more and clears his throat. He’s slurring slightly, and his fangs are poking out, sharp and shining and white. Wicked in more than one way now. I try to ignore the red that’s tinting the edges, clearing away as he sucks on them like he always does when he’s nervous. Merlin, I’m breaking him, and I’m _jealous_ about it. I’m pushing him further and further towards the point of no return.

“Simon,” he whispers, sprawled against the alley wall. “I’m hungry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is very late where I am. thanks support. love u comments rule, sleeping pills are kicking in
> 
> hope this is acceptable

**Author's Note:**

> so. 
> 
> comments, kudos (idk how this works actually you don't have to kudos) whatever you wanna throw at me.
> 
> given how late it is I have only written this one bit, so I'll try to mark it as a one shot. however, I am as free and convincible as a plastic bag in the wind, so if people want more I will probably write more of it. I could go hard. 7 years in the future shit happens and triggers a reunion, hard. I wrote 4k words without tiring or struggling for plot points, and my only negative/stressful outcome was finger cramps. viola guitar and knife catching leads to very tense finger muscles. genuinely interested in what people have to say, though. I really only write poetry, so if you notice some Shelley/Tolkien vibes with my adjectives, I'm real sorry, but c'est la vie, connes. 
> 
> anyway I'm gay and it gets worse, so my focus can be shit. try me again at noon when my dexedrine has time to kick in, and hasn't worn off. 
> 
> avec douleur  
> zima
> 
> (et non, je ne veux faire douceur, c'est pas une faute de frappe, mes amis)


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